


Candor

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: post Rebels S4 mid-season finale, Hera wakes in Thrawn's treasure room





	Candor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [politicalmamaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/gifts).



_How you turned my world, you precious thing_  
_You starve and near-exhaust me_  
_Everything I've done, I've done for you_  
_I move the stars for no one_ \- The Goblin King; _Labyrinth_

 

Hera wakes in a room she doesn't recognize. She lays still, sweeping her eyes around to take in her surroundings. It’s cold and there is very little light. She's on a bed that appears to be the only piece of furniture in the room, but she can't be sure as she is not able to see much further than the bed itself. Slowly she rises to a sitting position, blinking into the low blue light that surrounds her, and the ominous darkness beyond it.

"You're awake." The voice seems to come out of the darkness. It is deep and vaguely familiar. "How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" she demands.

"Manners, Captain Syndulla. I asked you a question." The voice admonishes. "Let's try again, how are you feeling?"

"I feel like I'm a hostage. Where am I?" Hera responds angrily.

"You are quite safe and only a hostage if you wish to be," he answers. "You are in my home."

"Who are you?" she asks, though she fears she knows, as she peers into the darkness, "Where are you?"

"I am right here, Captain Syndulla." He steps into the light and Hera knows immediately just how dangerous a situation she is in. "And I daresay you know who I am."

"Thrawn."

He nods, his face passive, but red eyes bright with an emotion she can’t place. "Welcome. I apologize for the unpleasantness of your journey--"

Hera narrows her eyes. “My _capture_?” she corrects.

“You are a valuable asset. Great care must be taken to protect a prize such as yourself.”

She glares. "I’m not a prize."

“Oh,” he smiles. “You are.” Hera flinches as Thrawn draws a hand down her cheek, and comes to rest on her chin. He tilts her head up to meet his eyes, seeming to peer right through her. “A very ...beautiful ...prize.” Hera shivers but can't look away, she feels herself growing warm under his unwavering gaze. He lets go and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Captain Syndulla, I simply want to speak with you."

"I have nothing to say to you.”

"Nothing?"

"You're an Imperial," she spits out, mustering as much contempt as she can.

"A matter of public record. What does it mean to you?"

"You're evil."

He raises a eyebrow.

“Did your terrorist father teach you that? Your treasonous rebel friends?”

"The Empire taught me that."

Thrawn smiles. “A matter of perspective.” He starts to move around the bed, somehow both casual and deliberate. “You have blown up facilities. Fighters. Entire star destroyers.” He looks her in the eye. “Your own home.”

She squares her shoulders and refuses to answer. To move. To show him any sign his words are affecting her.

"I understand."

She blinks, but bites the inside of her cheek.

"We are alike."

Her eyes flash. "We are _nothing_ alike." He cocks his head, daring her to continue. "You're a monster. Arrogant, foolhardy, misogynistic, and spiteful," she accuses, gaze angry and unblinking.

"I do not consider myself foolhardy, however I admit my plans have, at times, gone awry. I am quite arrogant, misogynistic and spiteful."

"I'm glad we agree."

"I am as well. I have need of you, Captain. You are bright, talented, and you can look me in the eye. We both know you are meant for more than the ‘rebellion’ can offer."

"Precisely what can _you_ offer they can't?"

"Freedom, Captain Syndulla."

Hera starts to laugh. "I'm your hostage."

"I told you, you are only a hostage if you wish to be."

"You mean if I don't join you, which makes me a hostage since I have no intention of joining you."

"I suggest you think things through." He stands and starts to walk away.

"You won't win." Thrawn stops but does not turn back. "We'll defeat you. We'll burn your Empire to the ground."

"Your friends will come for you." He turns now. "Your Jedi. The artist. Your squadron. They will come for you, and they will die."

He presses a button and the blue light fades, revealing the rest of the room. Across the walls and scattered around the bed are pedestals, statues, weapons, artifacts. She recognizes one of Ezra's helmets, Sabine's paintings. Thrawn walks back toward her as he continues.

"You see, I know all of them inside and out. I know their strengths and I know their weaknesses. They have many but their greatest weakness is shared and quite easily exploited. Do you know what that is, Captain?"

She shakes her head.

"Yes, you do."

She glares at him; he answers it with a smile. "You are very pretty and I have enjoyed talking with you. But I don't think that's what holds their interest. I think it's something else entirely."

"I don't understand."

He nods to a corner, to her family’s Kalikori on display. Her eyes flash with recognition, with anger.

"Family is weakness. You know it. You carry that knowledge with you like a shroud. Your friends respond to it instinctively. They want to follow you, to protect you. They think they love you but really what they love is what you make them into."

"That's not true." Hera feels angry tears spring up in her eyes.

"I do not love you, Captain Syndulla." Hera stares at him, the tears running freely now. "I want you. And that is why you'll join me."

Thrawn turns on his heel and sweeps away, disappearing along with the room as the blinding blue glow returns. Hera turns her eyes to the ceiling and roars in frustration until her throat burns. 


End file.
